


Unmask!

by Tapeworrm



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bratting, Choking, Dominance, Dominant Bottom, Forced Orgasm, Gaslighting, Hickey gets off on Ftizjames' anger without his knowledge or consent, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, Light Sadism, M/M, Manipulation, Masochism, Non-Graphic Violence, One-Sided Attraction, Period Typical Attitudes, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, dominant fitzjames, hickey is a brat and gets what he deserves, hickey is just generally unhinged as usual, in which hickey causes problems on purpose, its not too graphic but the implications are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tapeworrm/pseuds/Tapeworrm
Summary: He drank in his anger as though he was famished for it. And he was. And how the Commanderradiatedwith anger, he shone in the orange glow with it, it sparkled in his eyes, it played over his hair, it thudded in the tendons of his neck, he could see the peek of redness creep up from under his starched collar where it warmed his collarbones with rushing blood. It was magnificent to Cornelius; such raw emotion being strangled under a calm exterior. Like an animal strangled in a snare. Choking him.He supposed he should speak up now......................................Cornelius Hickey pushes his luck with Commander Fitzjames. And keeps on pushing.(Also read as: Fitzjames said 'fuck around and find out' and Hickey fucks around, and he finds out.)
Relationships: James Fitzjames/Cornelius Hickey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	Unmask!

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of the 2021 The Terror Rarepair week, as organised by ClockworkCourier and Attheborder.  
> This came under the prompt 'We're not so different'.  
> Had this idea in my head for the longest time, so this seemed like the apt opportunity to share it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy.  
> 

“Just, sir, please hear me out.”

Commander Fitzjames lowered his journal again, with a breath that threatened to be a sigh. An angry one. Hickey liked that. Meant he was getting through to him. _Now’s your chance Cornelius, he’s all ears._ His lips twitched into his signature grin. Facetious, but carefully designed to masquerade as civil. Blooming under the attention.

“What is it Mr. Hickey?” The Commander’s dark eyes bore into him from the other side of the desk, the Great Cabin windows alighted him with an orange glow. Strangely sacrilegious. “I told you, Captain Crozier will not be back until he has seen to the upper decks.” His voice was deep but held no warmth.

“I know, sir” Cornelius took small step forward, asserting himself. This didn’t go amiss. The Commander’s eyes hardened further, never leaving his face, reflecting the burning glow of the sunset. Hellfire. That look said ‘I dare you, Mr. Hickey, I dare you to take one more step further. Just see what happens.’ And so of course he took another step. Obviously, he knew that Crozier wasn’t in here, he had only just seen him perusing the top deck casually, checking up on things. He had intended to come down here to do some good old-fashioned snooping, he was simply that bored, so imagine his surprise when instead he found Commander Fitzjames gracefully reclined and writing peacefully. Enjoying a bit of peace and quiet perhaps. _Well not anymore_ , thought Cornelius smugly. _Opportunity comes knocking at the strangest of times, Cornelius._

“I was just thinking that I could talk to you instead, maybe,” that smile never left, perfectly performed in his mirror, and practised to show every indication of civility. This seemed to pique some interest and Cornelius watched as the Commander, annoyingly unfaltering, closed his book carefully. Deep dark eyes never leaving his face but narrowing steadily.

“What could I possibly have to say to you, Mr. Hickey?” Fitzjames cocked his head, his hair falling over his face slightly, and his mouth twisted into a grin. It struck Hickey as odd to see such an expression on his face, it was the kind of calm grin that came off as wolfish. It also held an air of smugness that Cornelius didn’t appreciate at all. It was the expression of a man who has had to present that type of grin on many an occasion without feeling the sincerity behind it, perfunctory but, in this case, undoubtably saying ‘I will eat you.’ A performance disrupted by a threat, the two things mashed together. If the Commander was anything like a wolf, then Cornelius was one in sheepskin.

The Commander underestimated him; he could feel it. He could _see_ it in those eyes, all dark and twinkling. He just _knew_ it. He felt his jaw clench. His eyelashes flutter. Heat rose to his face. Signs of his temper flaring up. _No Cornelius, hold it together, you finally have him where you want him. You’ll show him what he really is._

He cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back neatly. _Softly, softly Cornelius._

“Well, sir…” he trailed off, giving him another lopsided grin that he hoped was incredibly dashing. He pretended to think, as if he hadn’t planned this particular conversation extensively during the fevered hours when he should be sleeping, staring into the darkness blindly, plotting. He took his time, he glanced around the room with purpose. He could feel the Commander’s eyes on him, already hot and searing with irritation. Good. Let them watch.

Hickey marvelled in how delightfully angry the Commander was. He basked in it. He had always assumed that Commander Fitzjames held no patience for him. He didn’t really try to disguise it. In fact, it was one of the reasons Cornelius found his mind wandering to this man so much, he admitted to himself that he felt honoured. Such a man who has to think so extensively about every move, every expression, every remark, every footstep, to shine every button, to polish his boots, to arrange those epaulets, and yet he can’t keep up this perfectly fashioned persona around him. He lets his irritation infect him. All for Cornelius. It made him feel excited, it made him feel _giddy_.

He let out a slow breath and decided to look back finally, back into those dark angry eyes. Silence had stretched out between them but Fitzjames hadn’t made one move to disrupt it. _So he was interested then?_ Staring at the man before him, Hickey imagined if he closed his eyes right now there would be the haloed silhouette of the Commander etched into his eyelids from where the light burned behind him. Every time he blinked, there it was, a burning outline. He secretly wondered how long he could just stand, looking at him for.

“Speak, boy.” Fitzjames firmly announced, crossing his legs.

Not very much longer then.

The command came low and hateful and, oh, Hickey had to stop a bray of laughter from erupting from him in that moment. He batted his eyelashes at the sound but didn’t look away, made no move to speak yet. Delicious. _Oh, Cornelius you’ve really got him where you want him._ He bit the inside of his cheek so not to laugh and took the excuse to look at the Commander closely. He drank in his anger as though he was famished for it. And he was. And how the Commander _radiated_ with anger _,_ he shone in the orange glow with it, it sparkled in his eyes, it played over his hair, it thudded in the tendons of his neck, he could see the peek of redness creep up from under his starched collar where it warmed his collarbones with rushing blood. It was magnificent to Cornelius; such raw emotion being strangled under a calm exterior. Like an animal strangled in a snare. Choking him.

He supposed he should speak up now.

“Well…I just feel that we have a lot in common to talk about.” His perfectly crafted smile never wavered, in fact it strengthened at this. Solidified. The perfect imitation of a pleasant man. An imitation Fitzjames could see right through. He was ultimately a badly forged painting of a man; from a distance it looked correct, but upon closer inspection it wasn’t _quite_ right. Not quite human. Not quite _real_. And it makes the little hairs on the nape of your neck stand up. It makes you shiver. Yes, you could tell it was counterfeit.

There was more silence as Fitzjames regarded him slowly, and calmly. Looking through him with ease. Cornelius revelled in it secretly, anticipation bubbling within.

The Commander said nothing yet. Instead, he creaked forward in his chair, bracing his hands against the table, and really leaned forward as to look up better at Cornelius. And Hickey watched in awed fascination as that face formed a slow, hot grin. His eyes gleaming with sudden malice. A temper just like the one Cornelius was familiar with inside himself. He found his hands clenched tightly behind his back, sweating, working against one another as he watched and waited.

“You” he issued a small, dry laugh and shook his head slowly in disbelief, “Are nothing like me, Mr. Hickey.” It was all teeth, and Cornelius was sure he would have growled it if he could. If the words hurt him then he certainly pretended not to feel it. Amazing performance. Not strictly truthful though. _I know better_. Hickey boldly kept his stance, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of him. Those black eyes peered through strands of his dark hair, glittering and cold, like jet. Like looking down into the black sea at night: uninviting and full of things you don’t understand. Full of threats. _But I_ do _understand_.

“That’s not true though, is it?” He tilted his head warmly and smiled, “Sir.” He added.

“Get out.” Smooth and calm like a door had suddenly slammed, the anger covered up as quickly as it had come. _Now you see it, now you don’t, Cornelius._ “I’m done entertaining you, Mr. Hickey.”

Cornelius felt his face fall slack for a moment, heated with scorn. He faltered. He struggled with the order. Warred with it on his face, his crafted mask falling away somewhat. Then he laughed; he couldn’t help it. A short and spasmodic laugh. Bitter and poisonous to the ears. It covered up his mistake. It was designed to cover up his embarrassment. It was a reaction out of shame, but it worked to restore his smirk back to its rightful place again.

Whereas a laugh usually broke tension in a room, this one multiplied it fiercely. The space between them felt suddenly very heavy and quiet and Cornelius clenched his jaw. His hands clasped tighter still.

The Commander’s face registered both surprise and disgust. He continued to stare in disbelieving repulsion as he slowly leant back into his chair again. A cobra losing his nerve.

“I said get out, Mr. Hickey, I’m done with this.” His eyes watched still, and his face set again into a look of austerity. Brows pulled down and his mouth twisted into a tight grimace. Cornelius expected that such a look was perfectly manufactured and handed out to all Commanders, they all did it so convincingly.

“Well…” he swallowed and let out a laugh which he meant to sound rather shy and boyish, “I’m not, sir.”

He planted his feet heavier to the ground and cleared his throat. The smile was gone. Fitzjames was gaping at him, taken aback. Cornelius relished in this, but also took this time to talk, _its now or never Mr. Hickey,_

“I think…that you and me are more similar than you would like to admit, sir. We’re not so different. I _think_ that you and me share a _lot_ in common and I’m thinking that because of this we can be…well…a valuable asset to each other, sir.” He swallowed, growing feverish that he had gotten this far, sweating “I mean, look at us, sir. Look at _you_ , sir. You have built everything about yourself from the ground up, yeah? You have _designed_ yourself to look and act the way you do; I can see that sir. I’m the same, sir. I mean, like” He faltered and laughed again, “I mean you are much better at it all than me sir, you have perfectly crafted yourself. I mean sometimes it’s like you are a painting of a man, like I used to look at in books all the time. The clothes, the hair, the boots, sir. It’s all perfectly chosen and its like…well it’s like your _costume_ sir isn’t it?” He was stammering now. He was rushing. _Dammit, slow down boy._ But now the Commander had stood up from his seat. He was much taller than Hickey remembered him being, much more imposing than he had the right to be. “I mean this as a compliment sir!” he laughed, maybe he was going to be eaten by the big bad wolf after all, “I…I…look all I’m saying is that I _too_ have built myself from nothing, okay? I _also_ know what it’s like to wear masks all the time!” He felt himself shaking, whether it was with fear or from excitement he didn’t know. “I just think we can bond over this, sir.”

He had kept his ground remarkably well. If he managed this, he would unquestionably get closer to Captain Crozier. He would finally be recognised with the respect and dignity he deserved. He could sit with the officers and eat the good food that he by every right _deserved_. He would be a god among men. No more costumes, no more masks.

The commander’s face was hidden in the shade provided by the dying red light behind him. He looked monstrous, unreadable. Silent and still, as though he may well have been made of plaster. All Hickey could discern from him was heavy and even breathing. He wondered how hot under his clothes he felt, how much his head swam. He wanted to be in there, he needed to feel it, he needed to know what was going on behind those dark eyes. A conquest. He couldn’t stand something being unknowable to him, he craved it. He needed to know _all_. _Bare yourself to me_ , _a man without a mask._

“Are you finished, Mr. Hickey?” his voice was also unreadable, and it made Cornelius’s spine prickle uneasily. Was he finished? He still had so much more to say. So much more he had observed. He felt elated. He felt the best he had felt for months. _The power of sharing_ , he mused and nearly laughed again. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste blood.

“Hm? Well?” Cornelius suddenly figured out what his voice was doing: it was trying to be calm. It was trying to be levelled and rational. He was trying not to break his character. Bravo. Great show. Encore. He was still biting his cheek.

It seemed Fitzjames wasn’t waiting for an answer to this, he had already begun to move around the table, and towards Cornelius slowly and calmly, with the practised care and grace to be expected from a man of his station. Another well performed trait. His whole frame exuded anger, and yet he kept himself together. Always neat, always perfect. It wasn’t until the Commander was but inches away did Cornelius feel the first pang of something like fear, the first indication that things weren’t going right.

The man was tall, even taller up close. At least 6 inches above Cornelius. And much broader, especially in his greatcoat, it’s gold buttons sparkling in the gloom like eyes of some great beast. It wasn’t the width or breadth of him which made Cornelius frighten however, it was his face. Much closer now, without the halo of sacrilegious light softening his edges he looked plainly furious. His face pulled tight and pale, jaw clenched, lips drawn thin over his teeth and eyes gleaming hellishly from within the shadows of his hair as he looked down.

“You listen to me, Mr. Hickey” his voice emitted sinisterly from deep within his throat, and Cornelius could feel how hot he ran just from his words alone, as if they carried the heat up with them, burning. “And you listen well.”

Hickey still wanted to smile, to laugh in his face. He curbed that impulse immediately and just simply looked up with an expression the picture of innocence and concentration. Fitzjames heaved a breath and his mouth twitched into the ghost of a snarl but he swallowed it, he looked like a man who wanted to go in a million different directions all at once. He looked like he wanted to scream but he also wanted to laugh but he was afraid either choice would break him to pieces. Cornelius just wanted nothing more than to watch that happen. Oh, he _longed_ for it.

The Commander leaned down closer and for a horrible moment Hickey wanted to take a step back. He suddenly felt very small and he nearly turned his head away, the tendons in his neck screaming at him. But he remained, _can’t pass up a front row seat, Cornelius._ Much closer to Fitzjames now he could _feel_ the heat coming off him, feel as he steadily but strongly blew hot air down his nose. It made his stomach giddy and the impulse to smile had never been stronger.

“You,” his voice lowered into a coarse whisper, trying desperately to maintain a smooth exterior. It was failing. The closer Cornelius was, the clearer he could see that look in his eyes, the one that said, ‘how dare you treat me in such a way’, and ‘don’t you know who I am?’ but most importantly, it said ‘one wrong move and I’m going to eat you alive. I will swallow you whole and it will be like you never existed.’ A portrait of indignation.

“You know nothing about me.” He was breathing harshly over Cornelius’ face as he spoke, and all Cornelius did was stay absolutely still, “And I am _not_ like…” his lips thinned, he gave Hickey a once-over look of disgust, “ _you.”_

His eyes flitted to observe Cornelius’s face, grim and dark, and he further lowered his voice until it was but a threatening vibration in his chest,

“You will never be anything like me.”

Dark eyes flickered to meet Cornelius’s own and he held them with an unmistakably vigour. For a beat they remained as such, Fitzjames’s anger still heaving hard in his chest, spilling hot breath into Hickey’s face.

Hickey himself just paused, unbelieving, not quite sure of what he had just been told. He felt his face flush again, his hands clenching by his sides, sweating. _Officious prick._ He was grinding his teeth. _How can he stand there and say those things so boldly, knowing they are lies?_ He simply stood, rooted to the ground with the weight of his shock and humiliation. Feeling as though he might burn a mark onto the floor, but not wanting to give anything away. He was kept captive by the dark, joyless eyes of the Commander, there was a pull of repulsion all at once by the directness of the glare. But he would not, _could not_ look away and risk showing weakness. _Just keep going Cornelius, you’ve come this far._

Hickey let his face twist into a smile. He puffed out a small, mocking laugh which hit the Commander’s face with cold air and made him blink in disbelief. He made his face the _antithesis_ of Fitzjames’.

Immediately the colour further drained from the Commander’s face as he registered this act of insolence. All at once, just from this little act of defiance, he began to shake with anger, unable to control it. His whole looming frame struggled with itself, his brow further pulling down and his teeth baring in full. There was sweat forming on his upper lip. Hickey idly wondered how hard his heart was thwacking against that proud, broad chest of his. How much harder could it beat, before something bad happened?

“Get out Mr. Hickey before I do something I will regret.” His voice was trembling, struggling. The anger he had so expertly ensnared had broken lose. But it wasn’t free yet. Not yet. His breath came out ragged.

Cornelius stayed put. He continued to look up with that same smirk adorning his face. His gut twisted to know what the Commander could have meant by that. He jumped at the idea of being the one case which makes this man lose his job. _Please hit me Sir, please._ His very being cried out for it. he wanted to know what that would be like, what would happen to the Commander if he did that. Such a display of absolute fury all evoked by yours truly. His breath came out a bit harder at the prospect. But no, that isn’t what he’s here for. _You’re here to make connections Cornelius._ And so, he just smiled sweetly. Nice as pie. The sweetest boy you’ve ever seen. He watched Fitzjames’ shoulders tighten, the colour crawling up his neck and into his cheeks again, but he didn’t break eye contact, the whites of his eyes showing feverishly as he watched Cornelius disobey him plain and simple.

The prospect of him leaving the room was admitting that Fitzjames was right, and that he was wrong. No, that won’t do. He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong. He knew everything. He _had_ to be right. As he looked up into the dark eyes above him, he saw a man who has never lost a day in his life, a man who was always right. A man who has gotten to live life to the full just because his costumes and masks are much more expensively made than Hickey’s. _No. How is that fair?_ _I don’t even use my real name, isn’t that right Mr. Cornelius Hickey? I spend my days talking through the voice of a dead man, wearing a dead man’s skin. I’m an expert at this game. I deserve to have everything this man has, but he gets it simply because he is a_ better pretender _than me? No. That’s not right. If only he knew. I can see right through his fancy arrogant disguise, but I’VE TRICKED THEM ALL. You would have wanted this wouldn’t you Corneel, my old pal. You would have done the same thing I’m sure of it, who can live like_ this _? NOT ME._

He let desperation take hold, all at once, convulsing in his body, working though him. Setting him alight. _Yes, this needs to happen. Nobody can take it off me. They underestimate me._

“Okay, Sir” he breathed, feeling himself grow warm under his clothes, damp, “but…let me just say this” he tilted his chin up, trying to be face to face with the Commander and watched the red haze behind his eyes carefully. He looked about ready to throttle him. To swallow him whole. To incorporate him. Cornelius gulped thickly under the stare,

“Sir-”

“Get. Out.”

His face faltered again. His whole body faltered, and he couldn’t stop himself as he looked away from the Commander, drawn to the window. He let out a steady, albeit shaky, breath. Another shock at being shut down so quickly. _I have a lot to say, I’m IMPORTANT._ He felt his fists clench, leaving crescent-moon shaped marks on his palms. It was well past sundown now, but nobody had lit a lantern in here yet. They were just shapes in the growing darkness, eyes shining like blades. That same desperation still curled in Cornelius’ belly, squirming, and pushing him onwards.

Fitzjames was still breathing in his ear, hot and imposing.

“Mr. Hickey if you do not leave, I shall have to escort you myself.”

Cornelius was vaguely aware of how, under different circumstances, how comforting and luxurious his voice would have been in the dusk. How his warmth would have been rather welcoming… had this been different. Then again… _is this any different?_ His face twisted back into a smile and he turned to look up at this man boldly, suddenly very sly. He saw the Commander’s face waver slightly, panic maybe, at this new expression. Unable to read it. His stomach fluttered cruelly at the sight.

Cornelius took a step closer, his gut clenching with that black, wriggling snake of scorn. Impossibly close to him now. He half expected the Commander to move back but he found a quiet thrill in the fact that he didn’t. Maybe he also didn’t want to lose this little game. Or maybe he was just too scared to move. Whichever it was, it made Hickey almost buzz with excitement.

Cornelius drew in a calm breath and considered Fitzjames’ face as though he was simply looking in a mirror. Leisurely, calm, and looking at every detail with no reproach whatsoever. Internalising every line, every patch of stubble, every eyelash as though it were his own. It was a pleasant face, although marred by a reproachful look. A look that was halfway between seething anger and cold confusion. Hickey hummed deep in his throat, a little sound of approval, and he watched the Commander swallow nervously. Good. _Time to play this my way._

“Listen” he began again, his voice incredibly low and soft as he could manage, _Now that I have your attention, Sir,_ he offered another smile, “I get that you are a very proud man, sir. I get that.” He nodded to himself and rocked on his heels a few times, chuckling low in his chest, “but our carefully constructed appearances aren’t the only thing I think we have in common…is it Sir?” he raised his eyebrows at this, looking at the Commander from under his lashes.

Fitzjames let out a shaky breath, looking suddenly like he was physically wounded. His anger seemed to deflate out of him with a shock, and all the colour drained from his face once again. All this happened and yet, he couldn’t seem pull his eyes away from Hickey, as much as he wanted to. As if he feared that if he looked away it would reveal something. His breath caught in his throat, caught in a small moan of disgust, and abruptly he felt himself grow stone cold an instant, he had to catch himself from shivering as the sweat upon him became clammy and sticky under his clothes.

“Be _very_ careful Mr. Hickey.”

Cornelius just laughed again.

“I think you both know what I’m talking about, don’t you Sir?” He bit his cheek again, still twisting that grin on his face, “let us talk about…. unusual tastes. I’m sure you’ve heard about mine.” A rush of hateful heat ran down his back suddenly at the memory of his flogging.

Cornelius watched in fascination as the man before him, once hot and monstrous, seemed to crumble and tremble, like a waxwork of a man, rapidly melting. He let the silence form as he cast his eyes over this man in the gloom. Watched him staggered back as though stabbed, a look of absolute despair forming over that elegant face.

He wondered how he felt. Was he sweating? Were his hands trembling? Can he barely breathe? He watched as the man’s fists shook and his knuckles ran white.

“I have no idea what you speak of Mr. Hickey.” He breathed, “and I would tread with utmost care if I were you.”

His voice began to grow hot again, those eyes glittering at him through his hair, the shock seemingly covered up. _Now you see it, now you don’t._

“Remember who you are speaking to.”

Hickey took a step towards him again, too giddy to not engage in this chase. He felt much too eager to see the fear on the Commander’s face again, he craved it. Such a small moment said more than enough for him. Oh, it was like looking in a mirror indeed. _I see you_ , _Sir_.

Fitzjames stood his ground, but his breath was coming out hard again, his temper flaring. If Hickey didn’t know any better he would say that the Commander was…almost asking him to continue. Goading him. Seeing how far he was willing to take this. How much more he had planned out. And of course, Hickey didn’t pretend to know any better. And he had planned this meticulously while laying awake at night. The look he gave him now was one of bold coyness, and he approached further, smiling.

“I know who I’m speaking to, Sir.” Fitzjames had found the edge of the table now, unable to avoid it in the gloom and Hickey had him cornered like this. It was intoxicating to him, oh how the tables turn. He wondered if he could reach out and touch him like this, if he would hit him for it. would he let him grab his coat? Could he touch his face, feel how hot he was under his collar, dig his nails into that elegant throat. He wondered if he could press him against the table, what that would feel like. Would he let him? He rather felt like a child who was prodding at a dead hornet’s nest with the toe of his boot, curious as to see whether there was any real threat within. Will he get stung? Will it just be empty? That was all part of the gamble, the curiosity, and the thrill. Hickey was still smiling.

Fitzjames was close to breathless now with the severity of his fury and mortification. Straight-backed against the table, his hands trembling, gripping the wooden edge with the force of his anger, his knuckles still white. Still that oh so perfect mix of confusion and spite on his face, desperately trying to hang onto the edges of his perfectly crafted calm and rational persona. But his body deliciously betrayed him, and Hickey could see that. Flushed, white-hot, and trembling with incensed wrath. A picture to behold, truly. He wondered how far he could push this man.

“I advise you to leave Mr. Hickey” his voice was strong and rich and well-practiced. Hickey knew there was more happening underneath, needing to be eked out, teased out, evoked. Forced out. Oh, how he needed to plunge his hands straight into the depths of him and somehow pull out this hidden part of him. Expose it. He needed it, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue, tantalising, a delicious secret begging to be unearthed and consumed. He needed to know it all. He felt like he may expire if he _didn’t know what it was right now_. _Give it to me. Unmask!_ He felt himself lick his lips eagerly.

“Mr. Hickey, please leave!” He barked, slamming his hands down onto the tabletop, arms and legs both shaking, “Just go.” He let out a huge gust of air and ran those hands over his face, tugging at his hair. The image of a man absolutely enraged but trying to gather himself. It was so tormenting to him that he couldn’t even stand looking down at the incredulous man in front of him, scrubbing his hands over his entire face, reddening it. Hickey moved closer still, nearly flat against him now, hearing the hard heavy breathing coming from behind those hands. He peered at him with unbounded curiosity, wide eyed and gently cautious, smiling still. Like a child gazing at a jack-in-the-box.

“It’s okay, Sir” he whispered gentle, like a viper, “I won’t tell anyone.”

_Pop! goes the weasel._

And suddenly his whole world seemed to spin around, he felt a sickening lurch in his bowels and quickly realised he had been grabbed and spun around into the table, his hipbones colliding agonisingly with its edge. The Commander’s firm, hateful hands pressed down onto him, clutching at his clothes and pulling them all out of shape, knocking all the air out of him as his chest hit the wood with a clonk. All at once with a primal roar there was a solid, hot weight across his entire back, squeezing him further down until his ribs hurt and he felt blood rushing in his ears, not breathing yet from the shock alone. He became enshrouded in utter, breathing, darkness and realised with sickening fright that it was the Commander over him, enclosing him just by being there,

“I’m not the type of man you want to threaten, Mr. Hickey” came a low, hoarse growl, panting from effort, in his right ear, shooting straight down his spine, making him feel dizzy. He could feel Fitzjames’ hot breath ghosting over his neck and cheek where he had jammed his face next to his ear, his brown hair falling into his eye-line, matted with sweat.

Hickey felt a laugh bubble inside him and with the little air he had left it escaped him weakly and strongly, convulsing him against the table roughly. It was wheezing sort of laugh but once he started it seemed impossible to stop, breathless and absolutely ecstatic and elated and wow, what a _rush_. He laughed and laughed until tears squeezed out of his eyes and his nose ran and he really couldn’t breathe.

Ever looming, Fitzjames responded with a furious, frustrated, strangulated noise, and grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, smashing him down onto the table again, jolting him, making a bizarre noise squeak out between his gasps for air and his wheezing laughter. Maybe this was it, this was finally how he lost his mind. Slipping away whilst being pressed to a table under Commander Fitzjames, a man he was so sure, up until 15 minutes ago, could never be broken.

“Cease this!” that voice again, disembodied from above, from all around, hell, he could even feel it from within. Heavy and rumbling but oh so threatening, “I warned you, Mr. Hickey, you don’t know who you’re trifling with.”

A shaky breath plumed over his face, the body pressing into him was shaking and seeped warmth and sweat down onto him even through all the layers he was wearing. He was used to men laying on top of him, but never had he stopped to think about how heavy this man was, and how oppressive that could be rather than pleasant. He continued to cackle uncomfortably and writhe from the sensation, something so familiar made immediately dangerous.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

He stopped laughing then, gulping for air, and stilling completely in the hot, musky darkness. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the rapidly pumping heartbeat of his captor thudding into his back, or maybe that was his own heartbeat bouncing off the wood below him. His ribs hurt. He wondered dimly what he _was_ capable of. Was this it? Something horrible within him asked if this man could in fact get _angrier_.

Fitzjames carefully unscrewed his heavy hands from the clumps he made of Hickey’s jacket and placed them evenly either side of Hickey’s head, resting on his forearms so not to alleviate any crushing weight, but so that Cornelius could see them but not really anything else of the man. If it wasn’t for the slowly steadying breath pushing onto his face and in his ear, or the suffocating weight atop of him, those hands could have belonged to god himself in all his disembodied, incorporeal glory.

“You listen to me, Mr. Hickey” his voice was more even now, matching his breathing. Perhaps that little outburst had helped get it under control, either way it still made Hickey want to twist and squirm under him from the sheer closeness of it, “I’m going to pretend I heard nothing out of the ordinary today. I am willing to forget about this. Keep it a secret.” a pause, his throat clicked as he swallowed, considering his next words. Hickey waited with bated breath.

“If you leave here immediately.” A slow exhale through the nose and he felt him shift on top of him, his body screaming at him as it was shifted on the hard table and he winced silently, “If you leave as soon as I let you up, I will turn the other cheek. I somehow understand what you were trying to accomplish here, but hear me Hickey and hear me well,” with sudden swooning horror Hickey felt him press more of his weight down onto him slowly, his head coming to nestle perfectly in the crook of his neck and he felt himself straining and shaking, nearly weeping,

“We are not as similar as you may believe.” There was a deep inhale and a slow release, “You don’t want to provoke me in this way.”

The world was spinning, Hickey was close to panting, sweat feeling like it was being squeezed out of him and his face so dizzyingly hot under the pressure,

“Understand?”

A panicked yelp was welling up in his chest, but he of course couldn’t let that happen, screwing his face up in anguish. His own sweat pressed onto his skin from his sodden clothes across his back and under his armpits, cold and sticky. Blood ran hot in his knuckles and he clenched his shaking fists. Every pulse of his heart made him feel sick. This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

“I said do you understand, Mr. Hickey?” that voice, low and soft. It prickled down his back. The pressure was let off and he gasped for air again, shaking violently and ashamedly.

“Yes, Sir, of course.” But as soon as he said it, he was bitten with humiliation and utter disgust. Repulsion. _Compose yourself, Cornelius!_ _You’re not some schoolboy now, you won’t be bullied!_ Oh but, wasn’t there something about this darkness and this heat and this pressure that he loved? Wasn’t there something so sordidly perfect about it, wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? The whole time, didn’t he want this? _Admit it, this was going better than you ever expected it to._

“Very good, Mr. Hickey.” Sounded nearly sultry so close to his skin, so deep in his ear and if Hickey shivered, well, who could blame him? Wasn’t this a mistake on Commander Fitzjames’ behalf, to _know_ of his unusual tastes and indecent triumphs, and choose to combat them by teasing him? By giving him exactly what he wanted? A very silly mistake indeed. Hickey began to smile again, wet with sweat and exhausted. He kicked the hornet’s nest and he got stung alright, but this hornet didn’t know that’s secretly what he wanted all along. He needed the thrill; he could see that now. He hid his own impulses behind a masquerade of civility but now he realised that he needed this all along, he needed the crescendo, the confrontation. He was determined to get a reaction either way and well, he got one. Oh, he got one indeed. And now he couldn’t just let it go, he couldn’t just _stop_ _now_ , oh he’s had a taste, and he needed it all, he needed it even if it killed him. Desperation squirmed inside of him, eating him alive.

There was silence for a while where both men seemed to just breath. Words had been said and understood and now there was an aftershock between them, cooling down. Waiting for the right time to separate again. Had Hickey learned his full lesson? how much time has to pass before the threat is cemented? So, they both waited. An impasse. A stand-off. Cornelius could feel his entire being seem to be vibrating with energy, thinking rapidly about what to do next, how he could push this further. He needed to know how far it could go, he had to know or else he felt like he may explode. It was too good a thing to waste. He stared blindly in the dark, listening to the breathing all around him feeling as though he was in the belly of a monstrous beast. He blinked, and he listened, and he strategized.

“What would happen if I didn’t leave, Sir?”

Heavy silence. Fitzjames had stopped breathing and Hickey watched the hands on the table screw into tight fists. Then a long breath out.

“Then I shall have you _flogged_ , Mr. Hickey. And _numerous_ other punishments for all the codes you have _flagrantly_ broken in this _one conversation_.” He felt his head shake in disbelief against him, his hair tickling his skin deliciously. He smiled in the darkness to himself.

“I don’t see what I’ve done wrong exactly, Sir.” His smile twisted, “After all… _you_ have attacked _me_ , Sir,” a little laugh, all that he could manage under the weight of the Commander, “ _Surely_ that breaks conduct?” he laid his head flat to the left, trying to see the man above him but it was only darkness and hot breath, “You _are_ hurting me, Sir.”

The Commander issued a deep, hot laugh. Slow and deep into Hickey’s ear, puffing out across his neck. The laugh seemed to take over him then and his whole chest shook with it, spilling out of him gorgeously, a deep rich sound. One that held so much contempt but somehow amusement. Hickey felt searing heat spread from between his shoulder blades, up his neck, and into his face. The fullness of the sound coursed all the way through Cornelius’ body with shame and anger. He felt hot all over, shaky, and he registered a distinct tinge of arousal as the heat pooled between his thighs on its way over him. His mouth fell open silently at the sensation. The unrelenting reactions this man’s anger seemed to rear within him were astonishing to say that he always favoured to be in control of where he reaped his pleasure from. This was out of his hands, and it was terrifyingly exhilarating. And he knew more than ever that he needed this.

To get such a reaction from the Commander like this, so close to him, the sound enveloping him, made his entire body go numb with a swell of something sweet and heady. It zig-zagged through his entire _being_. To make a man so angry that he could only _laugh_. That was the epitome of godliness.

“Oh, Mr. Hickey” he all but growled into his ear, Hickey’s eyes falling closed and his breath catching shamefully, “What did you honestly think was going to come of this? Hm?” he continued that silky laugh. The kind of laugh that sounded dangerous. The kind of laugh that was reserved for levels of intense rage, hot and slow and venomous. And Hickey revelled under it, unable to do anything else as the sound worked through him. “You never cease to confound me! You never know when to shut that awful mouth of yours do you? You will just keep going on and on and _on_ until something happens and then you sit there, and you _feign innocence_?” his voice was steadily growing louder, thicker, his body trembling on top of him, heavy and hot and fucking perfect. “You’re an insolent boy! Making assumptions about people who you don’t even have the right to _talk to_ , worming your way to the centre of attention! Well, are you happy? Huh?” Another bark of a laugh, one that sounded disbelieving and verging on manic, “I even offered you a way out of this horrible pit you’ve dug yourself! And yet here you are, you continue to press and press and _press!”_ this last was growled deeply and enforced by the Commander blindly grappling at Hickey’s jacket and thumping him down into the table powerfully, knocking the air out of him and Cornelius had to swallow an actual moan, laid there in the dark and helpless to it all. Suddenly, this contact seemed like quite the opposite of what the Commander no doubt intended it to be. Hickey was numb and blind and stupid with nothing but sensation and noise and pressure and heat and oh he thought he could really lose his mind now. _Keep hold of yourself Cornelius._

The Commander was still incensed above him, continuing his angry disembodied monologue in close, short, and rough growls: ‘You have some nerve! Threatening me! You don’t fool me! I see right through you! You won’t get away with this! You ignorant-’ slamming him over and over onto the table, but all the sounds were fading into just a jumble of _noise_ , the words meaning nothing to Cornelius other than the fact that they seemed to be within his body, racking over him, inside his head, in the very pulse of his neck, his chest, his legs and his prick. Oh, and that they were _angry, hateful_ words and that made them all the more delectable. A man finally unmasked. A temper free of its snare. And _oh_ it was glorious. A prize to behold, to cherish. Every knock against the table forced out an increasingly louder hiccup from Hickey’s lungs and he thought that if the Commander ended up killing him now, he could die happy. Die knowing that this was his doing. This was all for him. Such a fall from grace, and he was the demon who tempted it.

All too suddenly the violence stopped and the man above him shook, having worn himself out. Hickey knew his arms would hurt him tomorrow and he let out a drowsy, dizzy little laugh, but it was barely a noise at all. Overcome with the sincerity of his sudden arousal all at once, finding the press of the other man above much more sensual than it had any right to be, the heat coming off him, his hot breath over his neck, the way Hickey’s clothes had rudely ridden up just so that the skin of his lower back greedily pressed to the coarse fabric of the Commander’s coat, sending thrills through him. It was much more than he could honestly handle. These are the types of fantasies he catches glimpses of deep within his unconscious mind, gone before it’s there, but leaving a lasting impression for the rest of the day. And now it was happening. The anger, the threat, the hands in the darkness, the _pain_. It was too much all at once. But then again…it wasn’t enough. The fact that he had pushed a man _this far_ over the edge of his perfectly crafted character of ‘Commander Fitzjames’ sent a fever all over him. The room was deafeningly quiet as he writhed and tried not to sigh delightfully. Tried not to laugh giddily.

“Do you really think that helped your case, Sir?” he managed shakily, voice thick with arousal and dizziness, hoping it didn’t show too plainly, “You hurt me terribly,” he almost pouted and laughed lazily, feeling the commander leaning closer to him oppressively and even though he couldn’t see him he knew his teeth were bared, “Oh, and also this doesn’t dispute my…previous ideas, Sir” He laughed maniacally now, a little woozy, “I think he doth protest too mu-”

But this was cut off sharp by a large, hot hand slamming around the back of his throat easily, shoving Hickey’s head down onto the table and holding him there with an inhumanly angry sound. A swooning moan rose out of Cornelius before he could stop it and the world span all at once, bright spots danced in his eyes, red with thumping blood. His whole face ran rapidly too hot and blood rushed behind his eyes, in his ears, the base of his skull, and straight to his prick where it strained stupidly against the seam of his trousers. Annoyingly, it was hidden in a no-mans-land between his hot thighs and thin air, for his hips were only just at the table’s edge. He had no hope of any friction whatsoever, and it was angry about that, thumping heatedly in time with the pounding blood flow in his face and head under the pressure of Fitzjames’ heavy hand.

Perhaps the Commander was saying something delightfully threatening in his ear now, but he couldn’t hear him, as though trapped underwater. The room growing darker and darker and nothing but the rush of blood and the twitch of his cock. If he was making quick, strangled, panicked noises under this weight he certainly didn’t realise, although his mouth was open. Yes, Fitzjames was saying something to him it seemed, but it was just a low purr that he couldn’t translate at all. Yet the sound and reverberation alone shivered through him and he felt his eyes rolling up. Was he passing out? Was he dying? Was this heaven or hell? All he could feel was the thump, thump, thump of blood _everywhere_ , white dancing behind his eyes, the room feeling miles away as though down a long corridor. Like when you go thieving from the bedrooms and parlours upstairs during a dinner party, still able to hear the guests talking and music playing but you are in a different dimension.

The white lights in his eyes were steadily turning black, his vision growing darker and darker still, hazy. His lungs burned with the sounds he knew he must be making, gurgling and panting and no doubt repulsively needy. His cock twitched uselessly, and he wanted nothing more than to arch his back but couldn’t move. That only set him alight further as he found himself thrashing and squirming and, yes, he was crying. All the while he could discern the Commander rasping smoothly, some lesson or another. Everything was building, building, building and he wasn’t sure whether his head would burst first, or his cock would. _He truly has no idea what he’s doing to me? How can he be that dense? If he doesn’t stop soon, I’m sure I could reach crisis from just this_. _Oh GOD!_

The world gone, his breath impossibly shallow and all at once his entire body froze up, wound up so tight. All he could feel was the hammering blood in his temples and the pounding right through his cock, just those two sensations for an impossibly long amount of time. Nothing else. Had he stopped breathing? Was he dead? Abruptly the hand was removed as though burned. The weight of the Commander left too in the same fashion, leaving Hickey feeling cold and weightless. The world came rushing back to Cornelius in one delicious swoop and as he gasped for air, he realised he was orgasming, _had been_ orgasming perhaps even as Fitzjames was on him, and just somehow unaware due to the blood pressure his head. Completely untouched, his prick leapt joyfully spilling it’s seed and Hickey all but yelped with it, sensation racked through him before he could even have the decency to prevent it. It seemed to come in three layers, the first was the shock, then he heard himself feverishly moan as wave after wave raked over him, and finally nothing but blunt thoughtless silence as white danced in his eyes and his breathing ceased. His stomach cramped in on itself as his head swam, feeling dizzy and light and completely boneless, nearly collapsing from the table. His breath came back hard and fast, but it burned his lungs worse than any icy cold could do. Oh, maybe he was dying after all, this was his body’s last shameful hurrah. He had often heard of hanged men sporting magnificent hard-ons at the end of the rope and had always thought that was the best way to go. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel indeed like he would die on the spot, still contracting from his climax but unable to breathe.

In the dark he could hear Fitzjames voice in utter despair and disgust, ‘oh god, oh my god, oh god no, no, no, oh GOD-’ he was uttering somewhere in the black, repetitively, and pathetically, ‘oh god what have I done, what’s _wrong_ with you? _What’s wrong with you?_ What have I _done?_ _Oh GOD-’_ quietly as though muffled behind his hands, softly and slurred from fear.

Hickey had just managed to get his breath back, but he couldn’t help but use it up to laugh croakily again, still gripping the table. The uncomfortable wetness in his trouser made him laugh, his body covered in cold sweat made him laugh, but the bruises he would have all over him, especially on his throat, made him REALLY LAUGH. He wondered if his eyes were blood-shot, he wondered if his nose was bleeding, he couldn’t see anything in the now pitch dark. Oh, he wanted nothing more than for Crozier to discover this scene and watch Fitzjames try to explain himself. He cackled silently, running out of air in his sore lungs. Oh, the Commander REALLY showed his hand there. He really bought out the worst in him, he just really _couldn’t_ control himself. And what a fine _mess_ he has made now. He couldn’t _possibly_ tell anyone about what Hickey had accused him of _now_ could he? Oh no, because _then_ that would mean _admitting_ that he _attacked_ poor Mr. Hickey. That he got so unprofessionally angry that he _slammed_ poor Mr. Hickey onto a table (the very table where lots of important discussions happen) and tried to _strangle him_. Oh, and what’s _worse_? He seduced poor Mr. Hickey with evil temptation and made him spill his unholy seed, tainting his innocence. Oh, the _SHAME_. What a real _mess_.

_Yes, I think the Commander will be keeping very quiet about this one._

Hickey, still laughing, weakly looked around behind him to find the man, eager to share the joke, to confront him with the evidence - but he was gone. All he found was the open door of the Great Cabin, spilling yellow light onto him in a solid rectangular shaft.

 _Turns out we aren’t that different after all,_ he thought, blinking in the darkness, grinning facetiously again, _just two men masquerading as something they are not._


End file.
